Gray eyes and gamboge hair! One barmaid of 'The Crown'!Ah, will that beaming siren still be there When I go next to town? -When over-night much spirit I had quaffed, How I was wont to blessThat nymph who, smiling, mixed my morning draught Of B. and S.!

That holiday has gone! Now wintry breezes blowIn fitful gusts about my hut upon The Warrego.Hard times foretell that for a 'down-South' spree The day is distant far;And I no more, in Sydney town, may see That girl behind the bar.